


Diplomat's Son

by Flavortext



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, im gay and wrote 20 k about my dnd character getting laid validate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext
Summary: Dear Anna, I probably could have put this all in a google document as a bullet point list w/o the porn, but what's the fun in that? Also, I'm sorry. Take your time reading this, it really has no business being this long.





	1. Feywild

The city was a bit of a culture shock for Einkil Stonespeach. He’d grown up in the newest elven city, suring up relations and trade. The buildings were ivy covered but bright white stone or red brick behind that, and stood in areas clear of trees. Here, there wasn’t an inch that wasn’t covered in greenery. The streets were troden but still growing moss, grass and flowering bushes lining the yards of the houses, which held gardens and overgrowing clusters of trees. The houses themselves were  _ growing _ , only vague shapes of roofs and doors discernable from the trunks of trees or leaves of tall bushes. 

Einkil had taken to not leaving the estate they had been put up in alone. He attended dinners and dances, put on his best smile and built up his father’s reputation and planted the seeds of his own name. He had overheard some talk of giving him a writ to open a trade route of wine grapes from his hometown, and had taken to singing the praises of their winerys, and called for a shipment of their best ASAP. 

It was after one of these dinners that he ventured out alone. He had lost an ear cuff somewhere on the walk back, and only noticed after his bath, when the servant and his father were both already asleep. The solstice was coming in the next week, and he figured they would all need their rest before that round of parties, so he quietly closed the oak door overgrown with some flowering vine, and followed the path to the best of his memory towards the house they had been at. He knew it was probably a lost cause, trying to find a small silver cuff in the dark, but kept his eyes peeled on the ground anyways, looking for any glint in the moonlight. 

He didn’t realize he had lost the path until he ran straight into a tree. It was a redwood, unlike the oaks and willows of the city, and impossibly tall. The trunk was easily twice his arms length around, and as he looked around, more equally large trees surrounded him. The soft moss he had been following was nowhere in sight. 

The underbrush had changed to pine needles and soft dirt, a breeze was wafting through the trees causing a rusling noise as it shifted dry needles against their parent trees. 

Einkil cursed himself, turning on his heel. A few minutes walk back in that direction proved fruitless, his feet leaving no tracks in the needles and the dirt to dark for his grayscale vision to discern any of his prints when he tried to see where he’d come from. He suddenly felt cold, wearing loose sleep clothes and a thin navy cloak, and simple leather slippers with gold thread trim. He kicked those off to keep them from getting dirty, wincing as the soft pads of his feet were prodded by dry needles. He tucked the shoes into his pants pocket and turned left, now keeping his eyes to the sky. If he could find a star he recognized, he might be able to get his bearings. Though a nagging voice told him those astronomy classes had been years ago and brief, and just because he’d had a massive crush on the tutor didn’t mean he’d recalled any of the information. 

The trees didn’t let up for what felt like hours, but Einkil’s heart jumped as they gave way to a grove of willows, low branches tickling his face as he passed under them. Einkil hurried now, scanning for any familiar sight. Time ticked on though, the moonlight fading until the night seemed black even to his darkvision. Einkil kept his hands out, not able to see trees until they loomed a few feet from him. 

Then all at once the sun rose. It didn’t feel like it had been nearly enough time for the whole night to pass, but rapidly the world brightened to vibrant greens, and Einkil found himself emerging from the willow trees into a clearing. 

A tower rose above the trees, blinding white stone that seemed bathed in a pink glow from the rising sun. The grass around it was soft under Einkil’s toes, and it stopped abruptly at where the tower started, no greenery growing up it’s sides like Einkil had grown to expect of Elven buildings. 

The tower had one window the Einkil could see, and looked to be about four stories, topped in ramparts, and only about 25 feet in diameter. It had a door, simple dark wood with an eyehole and a darkened steed knocker. Einkil stepped out of the treeline to rush over to it, and collapsed. 

It felt like all of a sudden his muscles had run miles, lifted heavy weights, and stretched to their limits. His legs went limp under him, arms unable to reach out to catch his fall, and though he regained movement quickly his joints screamed for him to lay still. He lay with his cheek pressed into the grass, breath tickling his nose, earing tugging unpleasantly in the dirt. He coughed, his stomach and chest suddenly hurting, lips that had been smooth up until moments ago suddenly dehydrated and cracking. His lower lip split with the cough and he sucked it into his mouth tasting blood. 

He lay for a few more moments, breathing through a stomach cramp, suddenly starving, and slowly put his hands under him and sat up. His head spun, the tower bending and swaying, the trees blurs of green. He caught himself and choked down bile, surprised there wasn’t more in his stomach from the four course meal he’d had just that evening. 

The sun’s warmth was growing far quicker than he would expect, the wind and chill of the evening gone, and his skin prickled slightly as if he might burn if he stayed out in it too long. Einkil took an unsteady breath and forced himself to his feet. He wobbled but stayed up, hunched to hold his stomach. He hadn’t felt hunger like this before, nor thirst. He took a cautious step towards the tower. 

His feet carried him slow but obedient to the door, and he leaned on it as he took up the knocker. It was in the shape of a flower, set with a clear sphere of glass or some crystal at the center, with petals of dark steel and some gold inlay on the edges. Einkil thumped it against the door. The stone caused it to echo somewhat, and Einkil slumped down door after three knocks. The stone next to him was surprisingly cool, almost uncomfortable to touch, but he rested his head against it anyways, wetting his lips and closing his eyes. He listed for steps as hard as he could, but exhaustion pulled at him, and he wasn’t sure when he slept and when he simply breathed through the perpetual spinning feeling. 

He only opened his eyes when he heard a sudden voice from above. It took his brain a moment to recognize the thick elvish dialect. 

“ _ How the hells- curse me. I’m coming!”  _ A high male voice carried down, Einkil looked up just to see a figure disappear from the window. Seconds later he heard hurried steps, a screech of metal against stone, and then the door was thrust open. It jarred his shoulder and the shake nearly made him wretch again, but the figure dropped to their knees and steadied him. 

They were an elven man, pale with short black hair and sharp features. He held a metal platter with water and bread and cheese in one hand, the other coming up to brush hair out of Einkils face. 

“ _ How long have you been wandering, dear?” _ The man’s accent was old elvish, Einkil understood it but only after a moment of remembering the particular inflections. 

“Since last night.” His voice came as a croak. The man tutted and kept his hand on Einkil’s cheek. 

“ _ Longer than that. You’re not from here, my defences should have killed you.” _ The man waved a hand and something shimmered. Some of Einkil’s pain lifted, though he still reached wordlessly for the pitcher of water and unceremoniously downed as much as he could. The man stays crouched by him, his loose shirt and pants were wrinkled but clean, both simple and slightly off-white. 

Einkil finished the pitcher and took a gasping breath. The water was cool and fresh, and though his lip was still split it hurt less with the moisture. He slowly took a piece of bread and spoke before biting into it. 

“I’m afraid I’m quite lost. I don’t seem to have my senses about me. I was wandering around all night, and I must have hit my head because as soon as it got light and I came here I collapsed.” Einkil chewed slowly, eyes closing as his stomach flipped at the prospect of food. The man mate a  _ tut _ noise under his breath. 

“ _ This land plays tricks on folks such as yourself. You’re pretty beat up, dear. Though I don’t know how much of that is my doing. I truly am sorry about that. _ ” Einkil squinted at the elf. He didn’t feel injured, aside from the extreme hunger and thirst and some small cuts on his feet, he ispected his arms and legs and found no bruises. The man caught his hand as it went to feel for bumps on his head. “ _ You probably won’t be able to even feel it, but come inside, I’ll clean you up. _ ” With surprising strength, Einkil was hoisted to his feet. He nearly dropped his bread in surprise and the sudden dizziness that followed. The elf tucked Einkils arm around his waist and kept a hand over his shoulder and pushed open the door to the tower, beckoning him inside. He really wasn’t in a place to protest, shoving the last of the bread into his mouth and tightening his grip on the man’s waist. His skin was cool under his shirt, which rose up slightly under Einkils fingers as the elf reached around to close the door behind them. Einkil adjusted his hand and did his best to walk on his own into the room. 

The inside of the tower was rounded, the white stone less glaring in the simple candlelight. There was no light down here from the single window that he had seen above, but there wasn’t much to light. The candle stood on a round wood table, with two matching wood chairs. The far end of the room had a fireplace with no wood in it, and hanging on the wall a set of cooking utensils. The brass pan shone as if it had never been used. 

“ _ I’m afraid there’s not much in the way of comfort down here, do you think you can manage the stairs? I’ll spot you. _ ” The elf gestures at the curving staircase built into the wall with the platter of food. 

“Maybe after another bite to eat?” Einkil shuffles uncomfortably. His ingrained manors are fighting with the desire to plop down where he stands and stuff his face. The man seems to get the message though, and leads him by the shoulder to one of the chairs, moving the candle to the side and setting the plate down. He watches Einkil eat another two pieces of bread and some cheese in silence. 

“How far am I from Itiireae?” Einkil says finally, wiping crumbs out of his beard with the back of his hand, having reached for a non-existent napkin. The man furrows his brow. 

“ _ Dear...”  _ He seems to consider something for a moment. “ _ Far. Farther than you might think. We should go up. I will take a look at your head.” _ The man uses an elven word that could also mean  _ mind  _ or  _ soul _ , but Einkil chalks it up to dialect. His hand wanders to his scalp though, and he recoils with a yelp. His skin feels smooth, but touching around his hairline felt like sticking a hot poker to his forehead. The man makes another  _ tut  _ under his breath. Einkil half expects his hand to be bloody, but it comes away clean. 

“ _ Careful, really. No fall would have caused that. My defences aren’t made to keep the common wanderer out, but until now have gone untested. It seems I need to work on...that.”  _ The man looks truly regretful, diples pulled down as he frowns. But he offers a hand out to Einkil, who takes it and finds himself more steady on his feet this time. The elf releases his hand at the base of the stairs and moves off to the side a bit. The steps are narrow, with no inner railing. Einkil takes each one slowly, breathing in time, keeping close to the wall and glad to have the presence of the elf at his back. They make it what he assumes is halfway up before he has to stop to rest. 

“I’m terribly sorry. I haven’t introduced myself.” The thought hits Einkil as he leans against the cool stone. He turns around, the elf only a few steps behind and below him, and offers a hand. “Einkil Stonespeach.” The elf knitted his eyebrows and didn’t take his hand. 

“ _ Tirion _ .” He gave a little smile. Nodding for Einkil to continue. He dropped his hand back to his side and dragged his feet up the stairs. 

Just as his breath was getting ragged again, the stairs leveled out. There was a small landing here, with a candle set into the wall, burning low and dripping wax into the small dish below it. There was a door off to the side, smooth wood like the front to the house, but with no handle or window. Tirion squeezed past Einkil on the stairs and pushed it open, beckoning him into the room. 

Einkil didn’t quite know what he had been expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. The room was hardly furnished, much like the area downstairs. It had a few red cushions on the seat under the window, a rocking chair with a thick blanket folded neatly over it’s back, and a mattress custom built to the curve of the wall, just large enough for someone of the elfs tall stature to be comfortable, if they didn’t want to stretch out too much. The floor was bare stone, but not as cool as the walls. The sun shone in through the window in a long line across the floor. Tirion put a hand on Einkils shoulder again and guided him to the rocking chair. Einkil sat, feet barely touching the floor and feeling suddenly vulnerable. He didn’t feel injured, just weak, and as much as this man intrigued him and the talk of defences frightened him a little - what needed defending against? - But he had walked into a strangers house, alone and lost. He rubbed at his ear a bit, the smooth skin that was usually covered with a curved strip of silver. Curse him. This is what he got for that sliver of vanity. 

“ _ Just sit and breathe, I’m going to try dispelling what I can of this.”  _ The elf circled around Einkil for a moment, then stopped in front of him and put his fingers lightly on either side of his face. The edges of his temples felt a searing pain, but there was a soft flash of light and suddenly it was gone. “ _ There, better? I will have to work on making sure you are able to pass back out without getting injured, but for now you should be okay.”  _ The man patted the side of Einkil’s cheek, then padded away to sit under the window. He crossed his legs under him and looked out for a moment before turning back. Einkil shifted in the chair a bit so he could see him better, the wood scraping against wood sound making him cringe. The elf didn’t seem to notice.  

“I really appreciate all this, but I have to get back to Itiireae, my father and I are expected at the solstice celebrations.” He scratched at the wood of the chair absently. 

“ _ It is that time of year, isn’t it.”  _ The elf looked thoughtful.  _ “I can get you back, you won’t make any progress on foot, sadly. But I will need to get some supplies...”  _ Tirion looked out the window again for a long moment. “ _ You’re a very long way from home, dear. I can send you back to Itiireae, it’s been... a long time since I was there, but I’m familiar enough. But... the spell would require some items, attuned to your plane.” _

“Plane?” Einkil wasn’t sure he’d translated the word right. 

“ _ You really aren’t aware...dear, you’ve stumbled into the Feywild.”  _ Tirion steepled his fingers in front of him, elbows on his knees. His gaze was soft, calming some of the rising confusion in Einkil’s chest. He knew the word, and the general idea of a mirror of his own world, warped in a fantastical way, meant to trick and entrance those who found their way there. He rubbed his eyes as if he might find what he was seeing changed. The elf continued to stare back at him, lips curved into a slight frown. He seemed easy to read- uneasy but kind, worried maybe. Einkil didn’t fully trust his own judgement suddenly, though. 

“Alright...how did I get here, then?” He said finally, slumping back into the chair. His muscles were still exhausted, and the way the chair rocked under him only further reminded him of how tired he was. 

“ _ I honestly couldn’t tell you. It’s the solstice, the barriers might be thin in places, it’s entirely possible you simply...wandered through.”  _ The man’s lips twitched upwards a little. 

“Right. Okay.” Einkil rubbed his eyes again. 

“ _ You probably need sleep. You are welcome to my bed, I hardly use it. I need to go inquire with a friend about materials, if I am going to get you back in a timely manner.” _ The elf stood abruptly. Einkil looked over at the mattress. It certainly was inviting, neatly creased blankets and three puffed pillows. 

“I wouldn’t want to impose...” He let the sentence trail off. He really did want sleep. 

“ _ Do not argue, it is my fickle magic that injured you, you have obviously been walking all night. I will be gone for a couple hours, the least I can do is offer you some comfort.”  _ Tirion gestured to the bed, already crossing the room to the door. He paused there, waiting. 

“Thank you.” Einkil swallowed his manners, whatever elven social customs he was used too didn’t seem to apply here. He made sure to dust his feet off best he could before easing himself out of his cloak and sitting heavily on the bed. It was perfect, soft but thick, and he lay back with a groan. When he opened his eyes, the door to the small room was swinging shut. 


	2. Tirion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting? Friendly conversation? Who knows!

He slept, back to the window and legs curled up to his chest, the thin blanket bundled around him. Though there was no breeze, the cold seemed to radiate from the stone next to him, and he was too tired to get up and fetch the quilt on the chair. He didn’t dream, but awoke some hours later to the sound of the door closing at the base of the tower with a thud. There was some metal clanging, an elvish curse, and then a minute of silence before the door to the room eased open. Tirion stepped in quietly. Einkil lay still, sore body slow to respond to his directions. He managed to open his eyes fully though, and give a half smile. The elf immediately mimicked it. 

“ _ Glad to see you’re resting. By all means continue, I can prepare some more food though, if you’d like.”  _ Einkil shook his head, rolling onto his back and slowly pushing himself to sitting against the wall. 

“I’m alright, thank you. What time of day is it?” The sun still shone outside, but he couldn’t see where it was from the small window. Tirion made the clicking noise with his tongue again. 

“ _ Afternoon, by your standards, I’d guess. I have to say I really don’t keep track of those things. The sky is not measure, the sun comes and goes as she pleases.” _ Tirion shrugged and sat under the window again. “ _ Tell me, what is a dwarf doing in Itiireae? Last I was there relations were...tense.” _

“That must have been some time ago, the past ten years have been good. My father is an ambassador, by extension I was as well, I guess.” Einkil tugged at his beard, it had come loose from it’s clasps while he slept, so he deftly started undoing the braids, setting the jewelry on the sheet beside him. Tirion nodded, watching him with his soft green gaze. 

“ _ Glad the Greyforge came around, then.”  _ He said. 

“I actually hail from the Scarlet Hills, northeast from there.” Einkil was always ready to talk his family’s politics, though he got a distinct impression the elf didn’t really care, or at least didn’t know much about that area of his world. 

“ _ Sadly never been, or heard of it. I’m sure it’s lovely.” _ The man looked like he had more to say, but pursed his lips and was silent. After a moment his expression relaxed again. 

“It is, I haven’t been back in some time, and really I was raised all over, wherever my father was needed at the time. It was nice though, different cultures, different cities.” Einkil smiled, starting to rebraid the curls on his chin. “Are you from...here?” He didn’t know how to pose that question. The idea that he was in an entirely different realm was still settling in. Tirion smiled. 

“ _ This tower? No. I am from the Feywild, though. I truly haven’t even spent much time on your side. _ ” Tirion had his legs pulled up to his chest, head resting on his knees. Even curled up his long limbs and pointed features seemed to take up a lot of space. 

Einkil almost posed the question “do you like it here?” but stopped himself. If ever there was a time to switch off the political decencies, this would be it. He was, if he understood correctly, trapped and at the mercy of this man and his magic. He might as well be direct. 

“I could eat, I guess. Might as well wait for... well I guess not evening, but you know. Keep a regular schedule.” Einkil tugged at his second braid, the first already finished and clasped at the end with a silver band. He caught was he assumed was a chuckle from the man across from him. 

“ _ I will fetch food. I don’t have meat, but there is more cheese and bread, and I can put on some semblance of a vegetable stew, I think.”  _ Tirion stood again, leaving the room without waiting for much of an answer. Einkil was used to the no meat thing, it was common among elves, especially those closer to the druidic talents (which in Itiireae was many of them). Einkil finished fixing his hair, rubbed sleep out of his eyes again, and repositioned himself on the bed. The wall was feeling less cold now that he expected it, and he leaned against it heavily, stretching the muscles in his legs under the blanket, curling his toes and feeling them crack. He winced and kicked the blanket off. 

He left his shoes on the floor next to the bed, folded his cloak a little neater, and rose with a wince before crossing to the window. It was narrow, with no glass or shutter, just an open thin arch. It looked out over the door, onto a forest that stretched on in every direction he could see. The trees grew in patches of colors, evergreens popping up amongst oaks and willows and some he couldn’t identify from this far. The bench under the window was comfortable, the pillows worn, the only thing in the room that really seemed used. They were nice though, and Einkil sat there and lost track of time, a slight breeze filtering in through the window, the occasional sound of metal moving downstairs, until it grew quiet before the door to the room was opened. 

Tirion held the platter from earlier, in two hands now, as it was laden with two large bowls along with the bread and cheese, and water. The jug shook unsteadily as the elf kicked the door shut behind him and looked around the room, seemingly suddenly realising he didn’t have a table. Einkil felt himself smile, a chuckle building in his chest. He took two of the cushions off the seat under him and sat heavily on the floor, putting the other pillow across from him. 

_ “Perfect. I’m sorry, I don’t get guests.”  _ Tirion somehow managed to fold his legs under himself without knocking anything over, putting the tray between them. He produced two spoons from a pocket in his pants as well, plopping one in each of the bowls. He fiddled with his hands, nodding to Einkil. The dwarfs stomach growled, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He tasted the stew eagerly. 

It was just as good as the first bite of bread and cheese had been, earlier when he’d felt starvation gnawing at his insides. But now that the edge of desperation had left him, he let his eyes close as he chewed some root vegetable, swallowed, and let the spice kick the back of his throat. He opened his eyes with a grin. 

“This is  _ good. _ ” He waited to take his next bite until Tirion slowly picked up his own bowl and caught a chunk of potato on his spoon. He ate it and smiled, shrugging. Einkil caught what might have been a blush on his cheeks, but he shrugged it off with another bite of the stew. He backed that up with some cheese and bread, and soon most of his bowl was gone and the meal passed in silence. He set the dish down on the tray with a clatter, tearing off another small bit of bread to nibble on. 

Tirion was still taking measured spoonfuls of stew, almost as if he was just going through the motions of eating. The way he held the utensil was awkward, like holding a quill in the wrong hand. Einkil noted this, though he didn’t know what meaning he should draw from it. 

“ _ I will need four days to get the components I need to get you back to your plane, maybe a fifth to fix the shielding around us. You are welcome to stay here, or sit in the grass outside, if it is day.”  _ Tirion set his bowl down.  _ “I might be able to get you a book? Do you read?” _ Einkil had to admit that past his studies and keeping up to date on letters, he didn’t get much enjoyment out of reading. But he shrugged anyways. There was a party -well, tonight, if truly a night and a day had passed since he got lost. Though Tirion had implied it might have been more. Worry seated itself in his gut. 

“Thank you, I am in your debt.” Was all he could muster, setting the half eaten bread down in his bowl. Tirion nodded, then pushed the tray aside and stretched out his legs between them, feet a few inches from Einkil’s knee. Again Einkil was struck by how  _ much _ of this man there seemed to be, while he was used to feeling small amongst other elves, this exaggerated even that. Tirion seemed oblivious, tilting his head up to look past Einkil out the window. He stared at the sky for a long moment before sitting forward again. 

“ _ You are a very well mannered man. You have every right to be frustrated, trapped with a stranger for so long. _ ” Tirion gave a general gesture to himself. Einkil stirred, straightening his legs to lie parallel to the elfs. 

“I-” He probably should lie, tell Tirion he was frustrated, or angry, just good at hiding it. Partially true, at least. Instead he let out a breath and told the truth. “I’m worried, my family is probably looking for me. But honestly, I’m glad to be  _ away.  _ Itiireae is nice, I’m making a name for myself. It’d  _ dreadfully _ boring.” Einkil felt bad for the words, but something made him continue. “It’s not that I don’t love representing my family - my dad is an ambassador from Greyforge, and by extension I am too - it’s just, I spend my whole childhood learning how to show off and be political and  _ perfect _ , and I finally get a chance to do it as more than “Rurik’s son”, and it’s so...” Einkil tugged at his beard. “It’s textbook. No one does anything new, no one cares for new ideas. No one listens, everyone talks.” Einkil shook his head and looked up at the smooth stone ceiling. Tirion blinked at him, his thoughtful smile turning into something more genuine. 

“ _ A vacation is good, sometimes.” _ Tirion says slowly, leaning forward. “ _ I’m sure you know this, but elves, they don’t change quickly. _ ” his eyes crinkled in a laugh. 

“Oh, I  _ know _ . The Greyforges don’t either. The  _ people _ change, but no one  _ cares _ what they have to say. It’s our job to listen our respective people’s voices, and respond to their needs. And I mean, my father tries, but he can’t be bothered with half of what I say. And, well, I’m not exactly in a high enough position to sit in on Itiireae council, yet.” Einkil shakes his head, pitching forward to match Tirion’s posture, hands digging into the wood floor. 

“ _ I’m afraid I had no idea what things were like when I was there, and couldn’t tell you what they might be like now. But you have a good heart, it seems.” _ Tirion smiles again. “ _ Change will come. The material plane is less fickle than things here. Days pass, seasons change, it’s predictable and reliable. You are good at what you do, it seems. People change, if they too are good.”  _ Tirion sits back a bit. Einkil wants to remark that he isn’t sure how many of the people he’s forced to sit through long dinners and dances with  _ are _ good, but again, manners. He’s got enough rumors circulating about himself, he’d like to think he doesn’t spread any about other people. 

“What about you, Tirion? What do you...do, out here?” Einkil feels childish for asking, and the flash of unease that crosses the elfs face makes his scold himself, but it fades quickly back to a pleasant smile. 

“ _ I have a garden, a few friends. I mostly keep to myself. I’ve had enough of the people here, a feeling you might relate to. Different circumstances. A new face is nice, though. Welcome, even.” _ Tirion looks past Einkil out the window. He’s definitely blushing this time, and Einkil catches another chuckle in his chest. Even out here, where he’s nearly sure rumors wont reach, there’s an instinct not to prove them right. There’s no political gain to be had here, he supposes. There’s also no  _ reason _ to care that Tirion’s green eyes are reflecting sunlight, and his shirt shows some skin by his hip now that he’s leaning back on his hands, or that he’s still  _ blushing, _ which is more flattering and endearing that Einkil quite knows what to do with. He takes the discarded bite of bread and chews it, for something to do. Tirion tears his gaze away from the sky and back to Einkil. 

“Well, four, maybe five days, then?” Einkil says, and if he puts a bit of a smirk into his smile, who’s to stop him. Tirion nods. “Do you drink?” There’s a true grin on Tirion’s face now. 

“ _ That can be arranged.” _ He pushes himself up, legs snapping to crouch beneath him. He’s  _ quick _ Einkil realizes, and steady, as he balances there on his toes. “ _ What do you like?” _

“Whiskey, sweeter or warmer the better.” Einkil matches Tirion’s grin. The elf jumps to his feet, holds up a finger - one moment - and rushes back out of the room. Impossibly fast the door swings open again, Tirion now holding a dark bottle in on hand and two glasses pinches in his other. He sets them down, then shifts the pillow he was sitting on with his foot so he is sitting next to Einkil, back also against the wall. He moves the glasses between them. 

“ _ Honors?” _ Tirion holds out the bottle, corked with no brewers stamp. Einkil prys out the stopper and pours. 

“To new faces!’ He meets Tirion’s glass with a  _ clink.  _ They down the shots in unison. It’s good, Einkil would be hard pressed to think of a  _ better _ whiskey he’s had, honestly. Tirion sets his glass down though, so Einkil holds off on pouring himself more. 

“ _ Tell me, Einkil Stonespeach.”  _ Tirion takes the bottle and pours as he talks. “ _ You talk of politics, you are well spoken and kind-hearted. You look my age, comparatively, old enough for social warfare to wear on one’s soul?”  _ Tirion swirled his glass and drank, slower this time. Einkil let himself chuckle this time. 

“Sure, I mean, I get frustrated sometimes. But I was raised in it, it’s comfortable. I don’t...” Einkil paused to down his drink, running over his next words a few times before speaking. “I don’t quite know that I have many other, talents? I studied hard in school and did okay, but I’m not smart by any means and I don’t care to try and change that. I’ve never really tried any particular art- well, my sisters and I did a brewing class once, I enjoyed that, and I’ve been back a few times. But I don’t exactly have any other calling. So, there’s already a path laid out for me. Ambassador on behalf of Greystone, pleased to meet you.” Einkil gave a mock bow on the last sentence. Tirion shook his head, pouring another glass for each of them. 

“ _ Well,  _ ambassador,  _ talking and alcohol are paired talents, and you are exceptional at both.”   _ Tirion smiled, which made Einkil’s stomach flip, he really had to watch how much he drank, now, and tipped back his glass. 

“Right - thanks.” Einkil drank, suddenly finding the floorboards very interesting. The general light outside was starting to tinge pink. He glanced behind him, finding the sky streaked with clouds, reflecting a soft pink light from a distant sunset. Tirion tracked his gaze, sitting up straighter to look out the window. 

“ _ Short day.” _ He said, shrugging. He offered another shot. Einkil held up a hand. A warmth was settling in under his skin, a pleasant fog in his brain. Tirion smiled and nodded, pouring one for himself. He capped the bottle after that though, setting it down between them. 

“I take it I shouldn’t rely on...the day/night cycle here?” Einkil sat his glass down beside the bottle. Tirion chuckled. 

“ _ No, you will be sorely disappointed. You are welcome to sleep when you are tired, and be awake when you are not. There are no stars here, but sometimes there are lights, fey or magic, you are welcome to join me at the window, I spend most nights watching for them.”  _ Tirion had a calm almost wistful expression, twirling a finger on his glass before setting it down against Einkil’s with a  _ tink _ . The light faded slowly, Einkil twisted uncomfortably to watch it for a while, finally listening to the ache in his back and moving his pillow back up to the bench, resting his elbows on the empty windowsill and looking out. There was a rustle behind him, followed by Tirion sliding into the space beside him. They shared a smile and arranged their arms in a way that they could sit shoulder to shoulder, feeling the slight breeze across their face. The sunset was on the other side of the tower, but the clouds reflected each phase of color, gathering as the sky slowly darkened. Einkil found himself yawning just as orange gave way fully to purple. 

“This is the first day in...years that I haven’t had to  _ do _ anything.” Einkil remarked quietly, sitting back a little from the window. 

“ _ This is the first day in years I’ve had something to do.”  _ Tirion quipped back, frowning a bit as he finished, as if he hadn’t quite meant to say that. He covered quickly with a smile. “ _ You should sleep, before you fall out my window.”  _ Einkil stifled another yawn, stretching his legs out from under him into the room. 

“I don’t want to take over your bed.” Einkil squinted at the bed in the corner, still wrinkled from where he had neglected to fix the sheets. Tirion shook his head, patting Einkil’s hand. 

“ _ Elven trance, dear. I can rest right here, or when you wake up. I do not need to sleep as often, coming from here.”  _ Einkil blinked away a momentary dizziness. He  _ knew _ that, he was raised with elves, of course they  _ tranced _ . He was drunker than he’d thought, then. Einkil made a grumble of affirmation and stood, keeping a hand on the wall to counteract any swaying. He took a settling breath before padding over to the bed. He made a fuss moving his cloak and shoes up against the wall, folding in the edges of the cloak over and over until he heard a movement behind him. 

“ _ I’m going to put these away, be right back.” _ Tirion stood, stretched back with his arms over his head, and then bent to sweep up the glasses and bottle, waving with it a little as he crossed the room and fumbled a bit to get the door open, before disappearing into the stairway. 

Einkil scratched at his beard, undoing the braiding and setting the jewelry on top of his cloak. The room was a weird mix of warm and cold that made his skin crawl. After unclasping his hair and untangling the worst of the knots from having slept with it, he shrugged off his shirt as well, still the stiff embroidered thing he’d worn to the party. The room was immediately colder, but once he wriggled his way under the blanket he was comfortable enough. Einkil splayed his hair out on the pillow before him in a fan, running his fingers through it rhythmically. 

The light faded, plunging his world into grey shadows. The door creaked open, Tirion stepping in and closing it slowly behind him. 

“Do you have a bath here?” Einkil felt bad for asking, but he wasn’t quite prepared for five days without any form of washing, he realized. Tirion chuckled, pausing halfway to the window. 

“ _ I have a basin downstairs, it takes a while to heat the water but I can set it up tomorrow, if you’d like.” _ Einkil hummed his thanks, flipping onto his back and staring at the ceiling, half aware of Tirion going to sit under the window, adjusting the cushions under himself. Tirion said some words in a language Einkil didn’t recognize, under his breath. 

“Huh?” Einkil shifted more towards his side, squinting at the figure in the window. 

“ _ Ah, just wishing you sweet dreams. The feywild can sometimes play cruel tricks on the minds of people from your world. Just wishing for dreamless sleep. I will be here, either way.”  _ Tirion turned away, looking out the window. 

“Thank you.” Einkil didn’t know what else to say to that...offer? It certainly made him hyper aware of the figure on the other side of the room, silent as he was.


	3. Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one.

He wasn’t sure when he slept, or for how long, because when he blinked his eyes awake, lashes crusted together in places, it was still just as dark, the window a black frame against Tirion’s still silhouette, head leaning back out the window to look straight up at the sky. It took Einkil a moment to recognise the soft patter of rain. 

He rubbed the crust from his eyes, kicking the blankets that had tangled around his feet as he slept off, and shoving himself into sitting against the wall. Tirion startled, snapping forward and shaking water droplets from his face. 

“ _ Gods I forgot you were there. You are a still sleeper.”  _ Tirion wiped a hand over his face, hair sticking up at odd angles. He ran a hand back through it as an afterthought. 

“I’ve been told that. Partners always find it creepy.” Einkil rubbed his eyes again. It felt like he’d overslept, a tad hungover but otherwise well rested, through the dark threw him off significantly. Tirion actually barked a laugh at this, shaking his head. 

“ _ I’ve had people check that I was still breathing.” _ He smiled at Einkil through the dark. 

“Well, aren’t we a good match then.” Einkil said the line almost automatically, it was too easy, and thanked his darkvision’s grayscale because he could pretend he didn’t see how it made Tirion flush. “How long was I asleep?” Einkil followed up quickly, not cruel enough to let him flounder for words that long. Tirion ran a hand back through his hair before responding. 

“ _ I’m so bad with time but, I tranced fully, and it’s been raining on and off for a while, so I would guess a full sleep cycle. _ ” Tirion swung his legs down from the bench. “ _ You are quick to wake up, are you hungry?”  _ He stretched his legs out and stood. 

“I’m a notorious morning person. I’d love something, can I join you?” Einkil fully untangled from the sheet, grabbing his shirt and putting it on in a fluid motion. He pulled his hair behind his ears, leaving it loose, and stood as well. 

“ _ Of course. My kitchen is small, but you’re welcome to anything you see.”  _ Tirion opened the door and held it for Einkil to pass through under his arm. 

The stairs felt much shorter this time around, cold under his feet but he was growing to expect that now. The room at the base of the stairs was just as he remembered it, but as Tirion hopped the last few steps behind him and waved a hand, a few stones on the far end of the room moved on their own, sliding smoothly over each other and revealing another set of stairs, these lit by a low candle mounted to the wall. Tirion crossed in front of Einkil, stepping down into the cellar. He had to duck a bit as the opening was small and the stairs not quite steep enough, but for Einkil it was no problem. 

There were only about twenty steps, leading into a much more open space, hewn smoothly from a similar white stone to the rest of the tower. It was a hodgepodge of different rooms, the far wall hosting a sink, curtained off toilet, and empty washbasin, and the closer wall a few shelves, counter, and an hearth, holding cooling embers from last night’s meal. 

Einkil quickly excused himself to pee, washing his face and hands quickly afterwards. Tirion had stoked up the fire with a few fresh logs, and producing a small flame from his fingertips that lit them with no issue. 

“ _ I don’t have much fresh fruit right now, but I can make oatmeal, if you’d like that?” _ Tirion takes a jar of oats and shakes it in front of him. 

“That would be perfect.” Einkil crossed the room to inspect the other shelf. Tirion was not underplaying the stock of his kitchen, besides some handlabled flours and spices, and crates of root vegetables along the bottom of the shelves, he didn’t have much. Einkil picked up a jar of thin red... he wasn’t sure what they were. They shimmered in the candlelight. 

“ _ Oh, you’re welcome to that too! It’s candy- licorice. _ ” Tirion grinned, taking out a pot and snapping his fingers over it, creating a sudden splash of water that he caught in it expertly. He placed the pot on a hook over the now happily dancing flames. Einkil experimentally opened the jar and sniffed. The smell of the candies was strong, and made his nose flare unpleasantly, but he picked one strip out and set the rest down. 

“If this is bad I’m blaming you.” Einkil took a bite. 

He was pretty sure the face he made gave it away before the gagging noise. Tirion broke into giggles, standing up from where he was crouched by the fire and plucking the other half of the candy from Einkil’s fingers. 

“ _ I should have warned you. It’s not everybody's taste.”  _ Einkil managed to make himself swallow, picking at the bits that were stuck in his teeth with his tongue until the flavor seemed mostly gone. Tirion chewed what he hadn’t eaten with a smirk. “ _ Oh dear, you look so sad. I’m sorry.”  _ Tirion squatted down, his hand coming up to cup Einkil’s face. Einkil forced his crinkled eyes to relax, the thin line that his mouth had molded into releasing with a puff of air. 

“You’re evil- that’s truly awful.” Einkil sighed, finding himself leaning slightly into the cool hand against his cheek. Tirion’s eyes flicked to it, as if he wasn’t fully aware he’d put it there. Tirion said another word that Einkil couldn’t understand, though it sounded like a curse. He started to draw his hand away, but Einkil - curse his reflexes - caught it instead, short fingers trapping him there. 

“ _ I did not mean to make you uncomfortable-”  _ Tirion started, a flush creeping up into his face again. 

“You  _ haven’t _ ” Einkil stressed, running his thumb over the elves palm. 

“ _ You hardly know me.” _ Tirion stated slowly. 

“And you me. Doesn’t need to stop this.” Einkil was a little proud of his own bravery, especially because it got Tirion to flush even further, and shift his hand to fit easier in Einkils, still brushing his cheek. 

“ _ Ah.” _ Tirion’s lips twitched from a nervous frown to a smile. Einkil copied him, tugging on the hand he had trapped a little. Tirion shifted to his knees, other hand coming up to touch Einkil’s cheek. He looked at him with searching eyes, as if waiting for some signal. Einkil huffed and gave it to him. Or more, he took a step forward and slotted his lips against the man’s, dropping his wrist to ball his fists up in Tirion’s shirt. He quickly got over the taste of licorice. 

Einkil could feel the hands crawling their way into his hair, cradling his head in a soft comparison to the surge against his lips, the first gentle press dissolving into something more opened mouthed and wanting. He clutched Tirion’s shirt to his chest, aware of how uncomfortable it must be for the elf to kneel like that, and drawing away a little breathlessly when the oatmeal on the fire made an angry pop. Tirion was beet red, but chuckled anyways, patting Einkil’s cheek and holding up a finger. He took a thick cloth and removed the oatmeal, setting it on the counter to cool a bit. He shifted back to crouching, bouncing on his heels a little to stay at Einkil’s height. 

“ _ That was nice. _ ” Tirion squinted his green eyes at Einkil. 

“Totally.” Einkil fought of the tug of disappointment at the implied finality of that statement, but it was quickly quelled by Tirion tugging him back in- hand moving so fast Einkil hardly saw it before it was clutching the front of his shirt. Tirion hovered an inch from his face, eyes still squinted in a way that might have been almost off putting if he wasn’t also red and chewing his bottom lip nervously. 

“ _ I do not want our breakfast to get cold.” _ Tirion bent his head towards Einkil’s shoulder. 

“We can eat in a minute? It’s too hot to eat now.” Einkil went with his instincts, peppering a kiss to the curve of Tirion’s jaw. Tirion seemed to accept this, turning his face back to capture Einkil’s lips. He shifted a little, balance off with his mind elsewhere. Einkil laughed into the kiss and pulled away. 

“ _ Nhg, I’m sorry.” _ Tirion ruffled his hair, not quite making eye contact. Einkil shook his head. 

“No, you’re good. Let’s eat, then...” Einkil tried to put on a smirk, but it painted across his face as something more genuine. Tirion nodded, flush that had slightly receding flaring on his cheeks. He stood though, finding two bowls on the left shelf and dishing out oatmeal with a heap of brown sugar. 

“ _ I do not have chairs down here, I usually take my meals upstairs.”  _ Tirion gestured towards the stone steps. 

“Let’s do that, then.” Einkil brushed past him and, careful not to spill, took the steps a quickly. The room at the base of the tower was cooler than it had been downstairs with the fire, but pleasantly so. Einkil scooted a chair back from the table with his foot and sat, smiling at Tirion as he came up through the opening in the stone, which slid almost silently shut behind him. The elf sat across the table, mixing the oatmeal absently. 

“ _ I do not want to be presumptuous-”  _ Tirion said, eyes boring into his untouched food. Einkil holds back a laugh, because damn, Tirion is so honest and upfront and he’s scared that any sarcasm might be taken literally. 

“I’m not going to jump on you unless you  _ want _ me too, but I’ll put it forward, it’d be a nice way to spend the next few days. You are,” Einkil does his best to convey with a look how Tirion’s ruffled hair and the sharp edges of his cheeks and ears make his stomach flip. Tirion doesn’t blush more at this, but his eyes do snap up to meet Einkil’s. 

“ _ I  _ want- _ It has been a long time-”  _ Tirion bares his teeth a little in frustration, saying some words in that language Einkil doesn’t know. He gets the sudden feeling that the man’s speech is so accented because he truly hasn’t spoken elvish very much at all. “ _ I like you, I would like to...enjoy our time together. I do not want you to think I am taking advantage, because you are stuck here.”  _ Tirion breaks eye contact and takes a sour-faced bite of oatmeal. Einkil follows suit, mostly because his stomach growls, but takes the moment to think out his response. 

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, Tirion.” Einkil starts, “You truly do not strike me as the type, I have been sleeping in your bed, haven’t I?” Einkil gestures a little with his spoon. “It would be very nice to share a bed with someone who also doesn’t move.” Einkil’s heart flutters at the honesty of the sentence. The honesty of all this- free of the usual games of implications that he’s waded through in previous...negotiations. Tirion laughs though, takes another bite of his food before talking. 

“ _ That’s good, thank you. And I  _ will _ try to get you something to read, I cannot say I am interesting enough to keep you occupied for all the time. And I will have to go collect components, for the spell.”  _ Tirion taps his spoon to his bowl. Einkil eats the last few bites of his, an eager buzz under his skin. 

“I’m sure you’ll find something interesting.” Is all he says, leaving it open to whether he means the book or the elf himself. Tirion squints at him, lips pressed into an honest smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAP IS SKIPPABLE


	4. What happens in the tower stays in the tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut? In my dnd character's backstory? It's more likely than you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really plotwise happens here they just bang

“ **_We_ ** _ can leave these here.”  _ Tirion scrapes his chair back suddenly, hand extended to Einkil. Neither of them bother hiding their giggles. Einkil takes the hand, feeling hyper aware of how warm he is compared to Tirion. His thoughts are quickly occupied though, by the elf ushering him up to the steps, maneuvering so Einkil is a few steps ahead of him, fixing the issue of height momentarily. Tirion crowds Einkil into the wall, keeping their hands intertwined while his free one moves to card through the dwarfs hair. There’s a slight twinge of pain by his temples still, like a blooming bruise, but Einkil ignores it for the lips against his own. 

Tirion is, for all his shyness and self declared rustiness, a good kisser. He swipes his tongue against Einkils, draws back and tugs his lip with him, then surges forward again, open mouthed, let’s Einkil do the same. It’s an easy back-and-forward, and somehow through it they take the steps, breaking apart briefly to make the turns but never breaking hands. A whine escapes Einkil when they reach the top of the stairs, forcing Tirion to rise above him again. The world outside is still dark, but growing lighter, as if a close moon is rising somewhere. The elf just keeps their hands locked though, shouldering open the door and falling with much less dexterity than he’d previously shown onto the crumpled sheets of the bed. 

He leans over his bent knees, tugging Einkil close between them. Einkil loosens his hand from Tirion’s then, but only to bring it to the back of his neck, holding him in their kiss while his other tangles in the loose simple shirt he wears. Tirion has a hand on Einkil’s hip, face upturned to meet his lips, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his scalp. Einkil sweeps his tongue through Tirion’s mouth and earns a moan, the elf’s breath stuttering. He smirks against his lips. 

“I’m going to assume you don’t have supplies for this,” Einkil hums, moving away a little to kiss the curve of Tirion’s neck. He feels breath catch under his lips. 

“ _ Fuck, I do not.”  _ The hand at the back of his head tightens a little. Einkil sucks a little mark on the hollow of Tirion’s neck. 

“No problem, there’s plenty we can still do.” Tirion nods, chin bumping against Einkil’s head, and pulls him back up into a kiss. His hands wander, under the stiff fabric of Einkil’s shirt, splaying out against his lower back, nails barely scraping his skin. Einkil leans with the pressure, crowds Tirion’s space and tips them backwards with a slight shove, catching most of his weight a bit off to the side while still staying mostly on top of the elf. Tirion makes a breathless noise into their kiss while Einkil staggers their legs. 

It doesn’t take Einkil long to take note of what makes Tirion tick. His neck is sensitive, he nearly keens when Einkil presses kisses to his throat, and he loses his breath when Einkil probes his mouth with his tongue. He’s vocal too, whines when Einkil moves his attention from his lips and neck to his chest, low-cut shirt ridden up under Einkil’s exploring hands, and easily removed. Einkil shoves the fabric aside and presses a quick kiss to Tirion’s lips, before shuffling backwards on his knees a bit (and the slight change in where his thigh meets Tirion’s crotch has the man bucking his hips to chase it, which Einkil shushes with a hand firmly on his hip. Tirion makes a frustrated noise but stays still, slowing his breathing to a low pant while Einkil kisses his chest, draws a nail over each of his nipples, and sucks marks on his smooth stomach. Tirion wriggles as Einkil’s beard tickles him. With a last nip just below his navel Einkil relents and shifts back up, mindful now to put some pressure with his knee, which causes a low moan that’s only cut off by his following kiss. Tirion for all he’s worth keeps his hips still, though. 

“You are  _ beautiful. _ ” Einkil hums against Tirion’s lips. He uses the old elvish word that could also mean enchanting, ethereal. Tirion’s eyes flicker open, crinkled at the edges with a smiling squint. 

“ _ You are teasing me.” _ Tirion bucks his hips a little defiantly, Einkil’s heart catches at how easily his grip is broken. Tirion arches under him, falls back to the bed with a sigh, and Einkil gets the sudden strong feeling that the man under him is  _ powerful, _ not just quick and able to do magic. The thought has a tightness curling between his legs, a little more greedy to draw out those noises, reduce him to a stuttering mess. 

“Only being honest.” Einkil returns to the kiss, giving into himself a little to drop his hips and drag against Tirion’s hip, met with a an upward grind that has him gasping into Tirion’s mouth. The elf chuckles and takes the moment, hands traveling upward from his lower back, drawing the shirt with them and fumbling a little to keep it from tangling too much in his hair as Einkil raises his shoulders, letting the garment be cast aside. Those hands immediately map his sides, his chest, quick movements across his body, fingers tapping a dance across his ribs, pressing to feel the bone through his skin and curves. They settle on his hips then, pulling them down while Tirion bucks upward in a motion that sends sparks through Einkil like lightning. Einkil has to break the kiss to bury his face in Tirion’s collar bone, halfheartedly pressing kisses there while he momentarily loses himself in the sensation. Tirion sets a rhythm for a moment, arching into the friction, before his breath catches deeply and he settles himself, a last slow drag as he pulls Einkil’s hips flush with his own, fingers tugging now at the waist of his pants. 

“ _ Is this okay- good?” _ Tirion nudges Einkil with his chin, prompting him to meet his gaze. 

“ _ Yes _ , fuck.” Einkil pushes upward to kiss him, wiggles his hips half to create friction and half to assist as Tirion tugs at his pants and underclothes in one motion, letting them bunch around his thighs and drawing his hand away, tentative fingers resting on the curve of Einkil’s back, waiting as he deepens their kiss. Einkil pants into it, resting fully now against the exposed skin of Tirion’s hip and stomach. The skin contact is  _ good _ , Tirion seems warmer now, and Einkil revels in it, hands gripping the man’s shoulders, leaning into him, letting go. 

Tirion moves, finally, after Einkil is half sure he could die like this, the heat pooling in him like a fire. The hand at the small of his back snakes down, nails digging into his ass, and Tirion tugs at his own pants, trying to get them off without breaking their kiss, and making a groan of frustration when he can’t. Einkil chuckles, a rumble in his chest, and kisses down the elf’s jawline, pauses to get a few louder moans by kissing across Tirion’s throat, and then lifts himself shakily and discards the remaining fabric from both of them, freeing Tirion (which has his mouth watering, the sight of him hard against his stomach), and easing the pants from around both their ankles, pushing them aside to join the shirts. Tirion still has his head lifted, eyes screwed shut, hand in a fist in the sheets. Einkil drinks in the picture, sitting back on his heels and rubbing circles on the slight protrusion of Tirion’s hip bones. 

He draws a hand away to lick it, slicking spit between his fingers before touching Tirion gently. The man draws in a sharp breath, bucks into the touch, and Einkil holds his fingers there, a ghost of a fist around Tirion’s dick, other hand tracing his hip bone slowly, keeping him still. Tirion pants and opens his eyes, meeting Einkil’s. His green pupils have blown black, his face has settled on a sunset pink, his hair is tousled. Einkil tightens his fist, twists against the resulting thrust of Tirion’s hips, which just has the man writhing more, fist releasing the sheets and finding its way to Einkil’s wrist, then dropping away as he gives Tirion’s dick a smooth stroke. Tirion lets his head fall back again with an open mouthed moan. Tirion’s leg twitches where it’s trapped under Einkil’s, maneuvers it’s way to press exquisitely between his legs, giving him something to rut against while he focuses on the slow ministrations of his hands, one stroking the other tracing the smooth line of his hip, down his thigh (and the way that makes Tirion’s free leg fall open sends a shiver down Einkil’s spine), a soft touch to his balls that has Tirion outright keening, then settling with his fingers splayed back on his hip, keeping him from completely setting the pace, though not stopping the slight thrusts that match his strokes. 

Tirion has an arm over his face, worrying a lip between his teeth when he’s not caught mid-gasp, the other hand gripping the blanket. It releases suddenly, Tirion pushing himself up on an elbow. His mouth works for a moment, finding the air for words. 

“ _ Kiss me.” _ He tugs Einkil’s hand away from himself to pull the Dwarf forward, a quick rearrangement of legs until he has Einkil straddling his lap, now fully sitting up. Einkil has to catch his breath at the sudden change of contact, but grins into the kiss as he finds he can easily grind into Tirion’s stomach from this position. Tirion mimics the movements, not quite finding the perfect friction himself but Einkil makes up for it with his mouth, pressing and sucking his tongue in time with the cant of his hips. Einkil breaks away to nudge at Tirion’s neck, and Tirion lifts his head while lowering back to his back, rewarded by Einkil’s hand around him as soon as the angle is right. Tirion thrusts openly now, biting at Einkil’s lip (Einkil is glad he took most of his jewelry out before he went looking for the lost cuff now, as Tirion’s tongue sweeps past the small hole in his lip). 

Einkil sucks one deep mark at the hollow of Tirion’s neck, sweeps kisses across his exposed throat with a hint of teeth, then a mirrored mark on the other side. Tirion whimpers, hits stuttering. His hand scrambles at Einkil’s back, then snakes between them and - finally - touches him, lithe fingers spreading the wetness at his tip down, thumb pressing a line from his base up. 

“Fuck.” Einkil groans into Tirion’s skin, bucking into his hand, trying to time it with the movement’s of his other hand. Tirion matches his thrusts, copies Einkil’s rhythm of twisting his hand at the top of the movement, but adds a pressure below his tip, always catching the moisture to add to the next stroke. 

Einkil pants open mouthed into Tirion’s shoulder, trying to avoid the instinct to bite down. Tirion shouts out in some other language when Einkil tries the press in the same spot as the hand holding him, and said hand falls lax for a moment while Tirion tenses and then shakes, spilling with the next few strokes over Einkil’s hand and their stomachs. Einkil wordlessly kisses him, gentle, drawing him back down until Tirion regains control of his muscles to scrape his nails over Einkil’s spine, hips, thighs. He cups him and Einkil shamelessly ruts into his palm. 

“ _ Give me a second, then I will- take care of you.” _ Tirion’s voice comes hoarsely. Einkil rolls to his side, keeps a leg thrown over Tirion, wipes his hand on Tirion’s stomach to clean up later. Tirion hums from his chest, ruffles his hair again, then pushes upward on shaky arms, brushes his knuckles across Einkil’s cheek, pets some of his beard. Einkil leans on his back, welcoming Tirion to shift them until he’s switched their positions, elbows just above Einkil’s shoulders, kissing him vigorously. Einkil feels a frustrated noise from the back of his throat, hips searching for friction and finding open air where Tirion has his hips raised, legs pinning either side of Einkil’s thighs. Tirion feels the movement though, gives Einkil’s lip a last tug, and uses his hand carded through Einkil’s hair to tug his head up a bit, exposing his neck, and covering that in kisses. He searches, finds a spot that sends electricity under Einkil’s skin and stays there for a few moments, leaving what he’s sure will blossom into a mark, and then goes further down. He scrapes his teeth over Einkil’s nipple, chuckles at the noise that draws out, and does it again, his nail doing the same to the other side. Einkil kicks his legs, heels sliding over the exposed sheet. Tirion shushes him, blows cold air over where he last kissed, and moves his hands, supporting himself as he lowers onto his own heels and kisses down, over the roll of Einkil’s stomach, peppering kisses over the few freckles there, just visible in the dim moonlight.  

Einkil has to close his eyes when Tirion goes lower, feeling instead of seeing how he  _ nuzzles _ into the hair between Einkil’s legs, kisses the side of his length ever so lightly, then turns his head to nip marks on Einkil’s thigh. Every bite has him bucking his hips, partially aware of the whine he’s making. Tirion just chuckles against his skin. 

Einkil loses track of time, aware only of the lips touching everywhere but where he needs them. Tirion isn’t cruel though, he works his way back around, then all at once licks across Einkil’s tip, catches his thrusting hips between his lips and makes one short motion, and Einkil cries out. His eyes snap open, meeting Tirion’s, where he looks up, he would be smirking if he didn’t have Einkil half in his mouth, his tongue experimentally licking here and there. Einkil swears in dwarvish, just to copy Tirion’s previous expressions. Tirion’s eyes crinkle and he drops his gaze, eyes fluttering closed as he hollows his cheeks and breathes through his nose, taking Einkil down further. He draws up, takes a breath, goes down until Einkil feels himself hit Tirion’s throat. He uses the last of his self control not to buck further. Tirion senses this, probably from the hand that tightens in his hair, pulling him up a little. He puts an arm between Einkil’s legs and loops it around, forearm flat against Einkil’s stomach and efficiently holding him still. Einkil relaxes a little, if only for a moment before Tirion starts moving in earnest, tongue flat against his length as he bobs up and down. 

Einkil feels his toes curl, his hips canting uselessly against the strength holding him there, legs flailing before coming to wrap around Tirion, meeting over his back. Tirion hums around him, which sends sparks across Einkil’s eyelids, and licks his way almost all the way off Einkil. He swirls his tongue on his tip, swallows, repeats. Einkil loses track of time, sound, feeling. He’s vaguely aware his hands are grasping at the sheets, Tirion’s hair. The man swirls his tongue in a new pattern and it’s enough, Einkil cries out and goes limp, Tirion swallowing and slowly moving away, kissing Einkil’s thighs, stomach, working his way back up until he’s lying flush with him, head on Einkil’s shoulder. 

**“** Shit **.** I’m gonna need to lie here a minute.” Einkil pats what he can reach of Tirion, his arm trapped between his side and the man’s stomach. 

“ _ Take all the time you need, dear.”  _ Tirion finds Einkil’s ear under his hair and kisses the crest of it, then he tucks his head into the shape of Einkil’s shoulder and sighs against his skin. 


	5. A book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't how plane shift TECHNICALLY works, and for reference ,I am treating Tirion as a high-level druid spell-wise. Let me have my fun.

**The sky outside** has no stars, but Einkil catches a hint of light, green tendrils underlined with purple, like rumors of what can be seen in the sky to the far north, stories he heard when he had a banquet with a few nobles from the port town north of The Scarlet Hillsides. The lights dance for another minute, Tirion breathes, not quite sleeping but slow, and Einkil only blinks back to himself when they fade. 

“You’re not as cold.” Einkil remarks, tracing the skin of Tirion’s back. 

“ _ Mmm, fey nature.” _ Tirion wiggles away, sitting up with a stretch. He reaches around for his shirt and hastily cleans them both up, tossing it off the bed when he’s done. Einkil tugs his hand and kisses the knuckles, which makes Tirion blush again. Einkil can’t get enough of how easy that reaction is. 

“ _ I will put together a bath, and get your things washed, if you’d like?”  _ Tirion gestures to their pile of clothes. 

“I’d appreciate it- the embroidery on the shirt is tricky, but you have gentle fingers.” Einkil wiggles his eyebrows. Tirion laughs, looking at his hands for a moment. He bites his lip and slowly stands, a bit shaky, and covers Einkil with the blanket. Now that he’s naked, the cold from the walls of the tower does bother him a bit. 

“ _ I’ll call you down when it’s ready, and then I’ll go see what I can do about the components.” _ Tirion smiles and leaves the room quietly. Einkil sighs, burrows into the pillow that smells like Tirion (morning dew and something metallic), and lets himself drift in that not-quite sleep for a while longer. 

Tirion comes back up after half an hour, poking his head through the door. He’s dressed in a nearly identical outfit, and has a belt and bag over his shoulder now. 

“ _ I have to call in a favor to get you back, but they have what I need already, it should be ready in three days, your time.”  _ Tirion leans against the doorway. “ _ Your clothes are drying by the fire, and there’s more water heating, but the bath is full. You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, I should be back in a few hours.”  _ Einkil untangles himself from the sheets and follows Tirion downstairs. There’s a pleasant scent of soak and steam from the lower room now. Tirion catches his shoulder as he starts to head there. His eyes squint, thumb tracing a small circle. Einkil gives a smile, and Tirion bends down and kisses him, soft and short, before giving his shoulder a squeeze and turning out the door. Einkil shakes his head and goes downstairs to take a bath. 

The water is just right, and the basin more than big enough for him. The soap smells like lavender, and when he’s washed himself thoroughly his clothes are dry, laid out on a cloth by the fire. Einkil dresses, pokes around the shelves until he has a handful of dried fruit and a large carrot that he washes and dices, and eats there in front of the flames, because he can’t reach the platters on the top shelf. 

Meal finished, Einkil trudges back up the stairs to the main room, lit by a single candle, and pauses for a moment. Tirion had not said anything specific about going outside, but he hadn’t really said it was  _ safe _ to either. The wooden door was flush with the stone around it, little window far to high for Einkil to peer outside. With a huff he continued back upstairs. 

Einkil busied himself making the bed and fiddling with the quilt on the rocking chair. It depicted an elven castle, made of trees and vines growing out of the earth, with an assortment of gods around it, and in the center a circle of thin stylized elves. They all sat around one small sphere of golden thread. Einkil ran his hands over it, the fabric soft save for the little ridges where each stained-glass piece was attached to its neighbors. 

Einkil folded the quilt up, hung it over the chair, and snuffed out the candle he’d carried with him. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he made his way over to sit under the window, crossing his legs on the cushions. The sky was dark as it had been since night fell, only the faintest difference in color from the dark sea of trees that surrounded the tower. Einkil searched for the lights he had seen earlier, even leaning a ways out the window, but found nothing. There was a pleasant breeze though, and the faint smell of dew to remind him of the previous rain. 

Einkil could not tell how long had passed, though he guessed hours because he went down in search of water and to use the bathroom once, but finally as he stared out the window he saw movement. A figure with a pack stepped out of the woods and made his way up to the tower, and there was a sliver of light cast out onto the grass as the door was opened, then the world plunged into darkness again. 

Einkil shifted around towards the door to the room, flexing his legs so they were less numb underneath him. He cursed himself for being  _ excited _ that Tirion was back. But he couldn’t help that he was bored, and lonely and there was an itch starting under his skin from being trapped here, he was so used to the flair and constant new input of nobility that this, though comfortable and arguably a beautiful place to stay, felt almost muted and dull. 

Tirion was moving around downstairs, the sound of something heavy being set down, but it was quickly followed by footsteps on the steps and Tirion shouldering his way into the room. 

He was grinning, holding a bundle of cloth and a thick book in his arms. He crossed quickly over to Einkil. 

“ _ I am very lucky. I got everything I will need, in return for just a minor favor.” _ Tirion set the book down on the bench and sat on the other side of it. “ _ I am tapped magic wise until tomorrow, and this-”  _ Tirion tapped the book, “ _ Has to be attuned, it needs to have a strong connection to your world. It should be as simple as reading it through, since it is originally from there anyways.” _ Einkil picked up the book and brushed it off. It was simple, thick leather bindings with heavy paper for the pages. There was a simple curl of elvish across the front cover.  _ A Theoretical Guide to the Feywild. _ Einkil tapped the cover and looked up at Tirion. 

“This actually looks interesting, I have to admit I didn’t pay much attention to stuff like this in school.” Einkil cracked the book open to a random page. 

“ _ Oh, almost everything in there is bullshit.” _ Tirion laughed, throwing his head back. Einkil scanned the page, a half spread with a strange living tree creature and notes about it on the other page. “ _ That’s what makes it perfect. It’s very...well, the elves who wrote it were very much rooted in the material plane.”  _ Tirion leaned back against the windowsill, pulling the dropped cloth into his lap and organising it. “ _ I also got you some more comfortable clothes, that shirt is very stiff.”  _ Tirion offered the cotton shirt to Einkil. It was soft under his fingers, and well made, much more casual than what he was currently in. 

“Thank you, that’s really appreciated.” Einkil considered changing right away, but he wasn’t totally sure what boundaries were between them at the moment, so he set it aside and turned his attention back to the book. “So I just, have to read this?” The book wasn’t terribly thick compared to things Einkil had been forced to read before, but it was long. Tirion nodded, tapping his fingers along the top of the pages. 

“ _ Not all at once, if you don’t want to, but it does have to be cover to cover, within the next few days.”  _ Tirion flipped the book to the first page. The elven script was ornate, in a dark blue slightly faded ink. Einkil let out a low breath and rearranged his legs. 

“I’ll get started then I guess.” He gave Tirion a smile, and was met with a warm look in return. 

 

The book was almost more boring than sitting and looking out over the dark forest had been. It was half made up of journal entries from several scholars, referencing a few second hand accounts of the Feywild, and a lot of wild theories based on historical artifacts and folk tales. Einkil got about an hour of reading in before his mind began to wander. He was glossing over the same page for the third time, eyes mostly focused on Tirion in front of him where he had drawn his legs up in front of him and sat with a shoulder against the side of the window. Tirion was sitting perfectly still, blinking now and then, looking out into the darkness. Einkil kept glancing out to try and see what he might be seeing. It just looked black to him. 

Einkil relaxed his legs a little, toes pressing into Tirion’s thigh accidently. The man jumped a little, turning his head to him. 

“ _ You could sit on the bed, you will get a cramp if you keep tensing up like that.” _ Tirion brushed his hand over Einkil’s where he was gripping the back cover of the book. Einkil listened to the touch, letting his fingers fall to his side. Tirion’s lips twitched into a smile. “ _ Come, I will sit with you still.” _ The elf stood, stretched, and went to prop pillows against the wall. Einkil kicked feeling back into his legs and followed. 

The bed was a  _ very _ welcome change, the soft mattress sinking under him. Einkil stretched his legs in front of him and settled against the offered pillows, book in his lap. Tirion got up and grabbed the candle Einkil had discarded, lighting it with a brush of his fingers and setting it on Einkil’s side of the bed before sitting cross-legged with his elbow just brushing Einkil’s upper arm. Einkil fought himself to not lean into the touch. 

He lost track of time with the unmoving darkness outside, but was able to get nearly a fourth of the way through the book before he was yawning and hungry. Tirion picked up on that, stirring from his trance and reading over Einkil’s shoulder for a moment. 

“ _ That’s actually mostly true, outside of this forest the sky is a constant rising or setting sun.”  _ Tirion traced a finger over the drawing on the page. “ _ I like this place because it throws everyone off, even natives.” _ Tirion looked fondly towards the window. Einkil wanted to ask more, why Tirion was all alone out here, but something told him he wouldn’t get an answer, or if he did it wouldn’t be...positive. Instead he folded the edge of the page and closed the book, setting it beside the candle. Tirion stood and stretched (and gods, that noise he made every time he did was going to  _ kill _ Einkil), and tapped his chin. 

“ _ I have more stew from before, and bread and cheese. It is hard to get a diverse supply of food here, I am sorry.” _ Einkil shook his head. 

“I liked that a lot, do you need help preparing it?” He stood as well, cracking his neck. 

“ _ No, but we can eat outside if you would like? I do not want you to feel completely confined.” _ Tirion touched Einkil’s cheek with his knuckles. 

“It could be much worse.” Einkil turned his face into the touch, kissing Tirion’s hand gently. The elf blushed and withdrew, but not sharply. Einkil grinned at that, and followed him downstairs. 

Tirion got the fire going again and waved a hand, revealing an alcove in the wall. A blast of cold air emanate from it, and inside Einkil saw a collection of cheeses, as well as a covered pot. Tirion grabbed this and removed the lid, placing the pot on a hook over the flames. He pondered over the cheese for a few moments before selecting one and closing the wall of stone with a flick of his wrist. He pressed the cold wedge into Einkil’s hands. 

“ _ This one is good, there’s bread on the table upstairs,” _ Tirion snapped his fingers above the water pitcher and it filled instantly. “ _ That’s the last of my spells, truly now, but why don’t you set up, I will be up as soon as this is warm.”  _ Tirion crouched by the flames. Einkil took the cheese and water upstairs, and found a loaf of some tough bread on the table, along with the platter. He balanced everything on that and opened the heavy door. 

The air outside was pleasant, the same slight breeze and scent of rain. The grass was dry under his feet though, and soft. Einkil set the food down a little ways from the door.

The clearing was a perfect circle, he discovered as he looked around. Willow trees all around, then grass, which stopped sharply at the base of the tower, no vines or offshoots climbing up the stone. Einkil made a circuit of the clearing, keeping closer to the tower with Tirion’s warning of  _ defences _ in the back of his mind (and when he touched his temple there was still a twinge of pain). 

He sat in the grass and nibbled on the cheese while he waited. It was strong and soft, and went very well with the bread. The moon overhead was fixed in the starless sky, nearly full, and Einkil leaned back and watched it until Tirion came through the door behind him. 

“ _ See, it is nice out here.”  _ Tirion presented Einkil with a bowl and spoon, sitting next to him with a flourish. 

“There aren’t any stars.” Einkil remarked. Tirion nodded around a bite of stew. 

“ _ It is not truly night, it is more of an...illusion, a powerful one. The original inhabitants of this forest wanted to confuse wandering souls, trap them.” _ Tirion waved his spoon at the surrounding trees. “ _ They are long gone, and I get the tower and peace of mind.” _ Tirion smiled. 

“Until lost dwarves come knocking on your door.” Einkil smiled back at him. 

“ _ That was unexpected. At least you are handsome.”  _ Tirion hummed and continued to eat. Einkil felt himself redden a bit and quickly ripped of some bread to soak up some of the stew. 

“Do you know when it will be day again?” Einkil is still thrown off by the darkness, the lack of stars. His brain supplies the thought that he wants to see Tirion’s pretty green eyes in the proper light again, but that’s too sappy and  _ attached _ for him to not immediately shut down and pack away. Einkil finished his stew and leans back in the grass. His vision framed by trees and the tower, around a blank sky with a distant moon. Tirion joins him, hand just brushing Einkil’s.

He forces himself not to take it. He’s had flings in the past- he’s dated a few guys briefly, before they settled in Itiireae, but this pull to be close to Tirion, to kiss him gently just because he’s there and smiling and being so kind, that has connotations Einkil doesn’t want to dwell on. He should be homesick. He should be freaked out, he’s on a different  _ plane _ . But he feels calm.

“ _ What’s wrong, dear?”  _ Tirion turns on his side in the grass, tilting his head at Einkil. He forces his face to relax from the anxious frown he’d been wearing. 

“Just a headache.” Einkil lies. The words bring back that slight awareness of the pain in his head though, and maybe that grain of truth makes it work, because Tirion relaxes as well, pats Einkil’s hand, and sits up again. He silently goes about cleaning up their dishes and gathering it all on the platter. Einkil sits slowly, readjusts to the change of perspective, and stands. 

“ _ I’m going to put these away, and then work a little on the spell surrounding the clearing. I want to make sure it won't hurt you on the way out.” _ Tirion smiles as he holds the door open for Einkil. 

“Thank you.” Magic is far beyond Einkil’s understanding, so he washes up and goes upstairs. He watches Tirion pace the clearing a few times from the window, but when it seems that is all the elf is doing he goes back to the bed. The book sits where he left it, and Einkil folds his shirt next to it, adjusts his unworn shoes next to that, then draws the covers over himself and lets sleep drift over him. 


	6. Tower, pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point I'm just throwing both pacing and the DnD rules for spellcasting out the window. Also this is so painfully short sorry.

Einkil wakes up to morning. Sunlight streams in through the window, a clear blue sky outside. He shuffles up against the wall and rubs sleep out of his eyes. Tirion is next to him, eyes closed, breath so shallow it’s hardly noticeable. Einkil quiets a yawn in order to not disturb him. 

Einkil sighs and slides the heavy book from the ground next to the bed into his lap. The pages flutter as he finds where he left off yesterday, and he traces the ornate vine pattern that runs around the page numbers before focusing his eyes and beginning to read. 

He actually makes it a good forty pages before snapping the book closed with a huff. Tirion startles a little and cracks an eye open. 

“Sorry, reading it just- not my favorite hobby.” Einkil opens the book back to where he was a little sheepishly. Tirion chuckles, shaking himself out of his trance. 

“ _ I know. It is not a very good book, but I will make it worth your while.” _ Tirion smiles and nudges Einkil with his knee. Einkil smiles, glancing away from the page. 

“If there’s a reward, then I guess I  _ must.” _ Einkil shifts and scans the page of messy writing. Tirion stands and stretches in the corners of his vision. 

“ _ I am going to get better food for you, and some other things. There is bread and cheese downstairs.”  _ Tirion steps off the bed and bends into Einkil’s vision. “ _ I’ll be back by lunch.” _ He taps the spine of the book and strides out of the room. Einkil shakes the fondness out of his head and forces himself back to reading. 

 

The day passes slowly. Einkil eats when he gets hungry, takes a cloth and washes himself off best he can, and tries reading outside for a little while before the grass and dirt and rounded wall of the tower against his back make it too uncomfortable. He’s back in the bed and hungry again when he hears the door open again. 

Einkil folds the page he’s on and sets the book aside, walking out to the landing and leaning over the stairs to catch a glimpse of Tirion. 

“Hello!” The railingless stairs make his stomach flip, but Tirion looks up and waves, setting a covered basket on the table. Einkil takes the stairs two at a time and skids to a halt in front of him. 

“ _ Ah, someone missed me.” _ Tirion grinned. 

“The book has been thirty pages on the court systems of seelie fey. I deal with enough of that in my  _ normal _ life.” Einkil tucks his hair behind his ears. He’s been wearing it out of its braid, mostly to give his hands something to fiddle with between turning pages. Tirion nods. 

“ _ It is even more boring off paper. _ ” He turns to the basket, lifting the - cloak? Einkil isn’t sure, its a large navy blue cloth - off and setting it over the chair. Inside is an assortment of fruits, fresh leafy vegetables, and fresh bread. “ _ I have to admit I usually use magic to feed myself, this is the best I could find. I will make my usual rations and spice them up with this.”  _ Tirion removes a few wrapped packages from under the fresh food, tearing the paper off bottles of spices. He leaves one wrapped and sets it on the chair quickly before sweeping the basket and spices up and carrying the load down to the kitchen area. 

Tirion stocks the shelves and cool pantry with his findings, and then takes out a large clean cloth and lays it down, along with several large jugs.He sets those on the cloth and waves Einkil off to the side of the room. Tirion breathes deeply for a second, and with a sudden ripple in the air the jugs wobble with water, some sloshing over the edges. The cloth is suddenly covered in neat piles of food. Rows of dried apple and other fruits, nuts and berries, and even some dried meats. 

Tirion claps his hands and grabs a few jars from the top shelves, handing one to Einkil. 

“ _ You can put the meats in here, I thought you might want that.” _ He smiles and crouches next to the fruit, scooping handfuls into the jar. Einkil whistles and sets to work. 

“You can just, do that? Create food and water?” He bites into a strip of jerky experimentally. It’s bland, but the first meat he’s had in weeks, and with some added salt could be good. 

“ _ Yes, I had to get a special enchantment on my pantry to keep it from going bad, but it’s a fairly easy spell.” _ Tirion caps the jar, now full of fruit, and starts on the nut and berry mixture. “ _ It’s meant for travellers, so it’s not the best quality. But filling, and workable.”  _ Tirion reaches where Einkil is, crouched on the cloth. He squints his eyes in an endearing way, lips pursed. 

“Hello.” Einkil shifts on his feet, scooping the last of the meat into the jar and closing it. Tirion shakes his head, hair sticking out slightly, and his ears flatten against his head. Einkil notes the blush and rocks back on his heels before standing up. “I’m hungry, let’s eat.” He pats Tirion’s head (and pretends he doesn’t notice the elf leaning into the touch), and grabs a pitcher of water from the cloth before sitting against a wall. Tirion shakes his head again as if clearing out water, and finishes jarring up the rest of the food. He fumbles around for plates and gets some cheese out of the pantry, then sits with his shoulder brushing Einkil and sets the food between them. 

“ _ So you read some?”  _ Tirion asks after a few bites of dried fruit. Einkil finishes his piece of jerky and nods. 

“I’m maybe, a third through? I can probably get halfway done today before my brain melts. Einkil smiles. “If I’m not distracted.” Tirion mock gasps. 

“ _ I would never!” _ He clutches the water pitcher to his chest before dissolving into giggles. Einkil leans into his shoulder, hums as Tirion pushes back into the touch. They eat the rest of the meal in silence, and Tirion scoops up the food and puts it away, and folds the blanket up to be washed. 

“ _ Well, you should read while there’s daylight, never know when that’s going to go away.” _ Tirion has a hand idling on Einkil’s shoulder as they go up the stairs together. Einkil nods, pushing open the door to the top room and falling heavily onto the bed. He lays there with his eyes closed for a moment, listening to the soft sounds of Tirion crossing the room and sitting next to him. There’s a pause before deft fingers stroke through his hair, careful around his temple. Einkil sighs and opens his eyes. Tirion isn’t looking at him, eyes trained on the sky outside the window, but his gaze is soft. 

“Will you stay while I read?” Einkil pushes himself up to sitting against the wall, heart swelling as Tirion moves with him and offers the pillow to tuck behind his back. 

“ _ Yes, I have everything I need for the spell now, besides the book.” _ Tirion taps the leather cover. 

“Let’s get to it then.” Einkil pulls the book into his lap and starts to read. 

The sun doesn’t move, so Einkil keeps track of time by pages. About fifteen long chunks of tiny elvish scrawl pass by before Tirion squeezes his shoulder and leaves for a moment, coming back up with a pitcher of water and the cloak he had had over the basket, which he sets on the chair. He brings the water over and offers it, and then settles back beside Einkil and lies down, shoulder pressed into the dwarfs hip. Einkil smiles and cards a hand through Tirion’s hair before returning to his reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chap is smut be ware.


	7. Where does Tirion go? Who knows (Anna, I guess)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones NSFW yall

**There’s** only so much talk of theoretical time distortion in the Feywild Einkil can focus through, and he’s nearing his breaking point, both from boredom and a tinge of worry, that if this book is right, time could be passing much faster back home than it is here. He doesn’t have to give in of his own volition though, because just as he turns the page to a different scholars take on the issue, there’s a soft hum and a hand tracing the seam along his thigh. Einkil glances down over the side of the book. 

Tirion is turned on his side, Einkil had assumed he was trancing, but he has his eyes squinted and is tracing the stitching down to Einkil’s knee, then back up. Einkil shirts the book to his other bent leg and watches the exploration. Tirion gets back up to his hip and continues upwards, splaying his fingers out under the hem of Einkil’s shirt where it’s ridden up. Einkil stifles the giggle and flinch as it tickles, but Tirion notices and gets a sly smile. 

“ _ You can keep reading.” _ He says, while shuffling a little closer and pressing a feather light kiss to the patch of exposed skin between his fingers. Einkil sighs and tries to turn back, if only to play into the game, but Tirion drags his nails up over his ribs (and he squeals and flinches away despite himself), then out over the roll of his stomach, pulling him close. Tirion shuffles his shoulders more until his head is half in Einkil’s lap, lips brushing his thigh, and Einkil flatten his legs and angles the book on his hip, eyes scanning across the page but not really registering. Tirion says a soft word in the language Einkil doesn’t understand, and turns over, wrapping his arms around Einkils waist. He just lies there, breathing softly against his stomach, still enough that Einkil actually returns and finishes another page before the hands loose around his back twitch and drag up his spine, dragging his shirt with them. Einkil closes the book with a snap. 

“ _ Something wrong?” _ Tirion says innocently against his skin. Einkil can feel more than see the smile on his lips. 

“Not at all.” Einkil brushes the hair off Tirion’s forehead, and traces the point and curve of his ear with his thumb. Tirion hums and squeezes his arms around Einkil’s back. Tirion’s eyes flick open, crinkled in a smile, and he scans the peppered marks he’s left previously along Einkil’s stomach. He presses a kiss over the nearest one, gentle at first but with a soft nip as he draws away. Einkil let his head fall back against the wall, not bothering to hide the smile of quell the fluttering in his chest and Tirion methodically kissed his stomach, then tugged him down to lying on his back and sought out the marks he’d left on his chest. It was hot, and sweet, if he was being honest with himself. Tirion wasn’t just getting to a point, he was enjoying this. 

Tirion made his way finally up to Einkil’s face, mostly lying on top of him now, and paused with their foreheads together. 

“ _ If you want to keep reading, so you can get out of here sooner, I can stop.” _ His words are so heartbreakingly genuine that Einkil has to catch his breath. 

“I want- this has been good. For me. Getting away, being around someone I actually like.” Einkil laughed, aware that Tirion could feel the puff of air on his lips. “I mean, I love my family, endlessly, but everyone else, even them sometimes, they’re a pain. They’re...” Einkil fumbled for words. “They’re entitled, they’ve been so caught up in  _ politics _ for so long they’ve forgotten what they’re supposed to represent.” Einkil closed his eyes, Tirion was watching him with an open curiosity that made his heart ache, that made thoughts like  _ this would be easy to get used to _ flit into his head and escape his immediate efforts to crunch them. 

“What I’m saying is, I like being here, with you, and I’ll need to go back but another day, even a few, is quite welcome.” Einkil isn’t quite sure how long he’s been here, but he’s pretty sure he’s either currently missing or about to miss the big party they’d been preparing for, and while he feel bad for his father’s no doubt mountain of stress, not having to sit through hours upon hours of small talk sounds wonderful. That, and Tirion chuckles at his words and kisses him, hands scratching through his beard and hair. Einkil arches into it. 

Tirion hums in the back of his throat, almost like a purr, the vibration pleasant against Einkil’s lips, though quickly interrupted as Einkil nips Tirion’s lip, earns a tiny gasp, and uses that to sweep his tongue past the elfs teeth. Tirion collapses a little, tugging Einkil to his side and arranging their limbs so he can curl around him, fingers tangled in his hair and beard, lips connected. Einkil has an arm around Tirion’s waist, legs entangled, and his free hand supporting the elf’s cheek. They kiss like that for an indeterminate amount of time. 

Tirion breaks the trance with a little whine, pulling Einkil a little closer and leaning his head back in an invitation for Einkil to trail kisses down his jaw and neck. Einkil takes advantage of the opening, nuzzling and leaving open mouthed marks along the ridge of Tirion’s throat. He can feel the heartbeat speed up under his lips. Einkil slides his hand from Tirion’s waist up under his shirt, scraping his nails over his chest, rolling a nipple between his fingers and causing Tirion to whimper and roll his hips, half hard against Einkil’s leg. Einkil moves his thigh a little in response and continues his trail of kisses along Tirion’s collarbone, easily shoving aside his loose cotton shirt. He can feel Tirion’s breath in his hair. 

Einkil sucks a last mark into Tirion’s shoulder and returns to his lips, rolling onto his chest and propping himself up a little to find the perfect angle. Tirion’s hands run impatiently over the dwarfs sides and ass, pulling him sharply down to grind and make himself gasp into their kiss. It’s Einkil’s turn to hum, copying the movement of his hips and adding a thumb pressing over Tirion’s nipple. The elf’s breath stutters and he nips needily at Einkil’s lip. 

“Clothes.” Einkil tugs at the offending layers of cloth between them, parting long enough to shed both their shirts and shifting down to scrape his teeth over Tirion’s chest, hands finding his waistband and pausing for the quiet  _ “please _ ” that passes the elf’s lips before tugging down. Tirion’s dick flops against his stomach and he groans, pulling Einkil up again for a wet kiss. Einkil slips his hand between them and cups him, sweeping a thumb around his tip to spread the wetness there. Tirion bucks into the touch, legs falling open and drawing up around Einkil’s hips. 

“ _ I got- _ ” Tirion moans as Einkil strokes him softly. “ _ On the chair. _ ” He bucks his hips again and rolls out from under Einkil, pushing himself up a little unsteadily and digging through his cloak before coming back with the little package he’d set aside earlier. 

“You really?” Einkil’s chest  _ hurts.  _ He wants to make a joke, something about Tirion being presumptuous, but his dick thinks differently, and he sits up on his knee’s to meet Tirion halfway as he sits back on the bed, tugging him close and kissing him roughly, grinning into it. Tirion is flushed red and smiling as well, and lays them back in their previous position slowly, setting the package on the pillow beside them. He opens it blindly with only one hand, which takes some time, but he’s more occupied with tugging Einkil free of his pants and pulling him close until their slotted together and he can rut upwards, the growing heat pooling in his groin. Einkil kisses him and grinds right back. 

When Tirion finally has the little jar free of the paper, he breaks the kiss and wiggles, legs parting further with a last drag against Einkil, and presses the jar into the hand currently carded through his hair. Einkil sits up a little between Tirion’s legs and tucks his hair back. The jar opens easily, a mild oily smell, and Einkil sets it carefully on the mattress. Tirion props himself up on his elbows and resists taking himself in his hand, dick twitching at just the sight of Einkil on his knees there, rubbing oil between his fingers. 

Einkil first gives some attention to Tirion’s dick, achingly slow strokes made smooth with the oil. Tirion lets his head fall back but manages to keep his arms under him. He draws his knees further up and apart and cants his hips needily. Einkil chuckles but obliges. 

Tirion moans with no reservations when Einkil slides a finger into him, slow and sweet with his other hand tracing small circles on his hip. Einkil can tell it takes everything he has to stay still, if he makes up for it with not staying quiet. He supposes it doesn’t matter, here in the middle of nowhere. He gets down to his knuckle and draws out, Tirion hissing at the loss, but quickly repeats the motion with another dab of oil. Tirion doesn’t resist grinding down this time, seeking more. Einkil smiles and crooks his finger, draws out, and begins a slow, stretching pace. 

He adds another finger, which earns him a sharp “ _ fuck _ ” and Tirion dropping to just one elbow, gripping himself with his other hand and tugging with the need to release some of the building pressure. Einkil leans over to kiss him, far to chastely as he spreads his two fingers and draws a moan from the elf. Tirion uses the closeness to switch his hand from himself to Einkil. Einkil moans, dropping his head to Tirion’s shoulder and letting him stroke him in time with the movement of his fingers. 

Einkil gets to three fingers before he has to swat Tirion’s hand away, hips stuttering a little to out of his control, and he wants to draw this out as long as he can. Tirion just smiles against his hair and falls back to the pillows, hooking one leg around Einkil’s hips loosely. Einkil stretches him for another minute, sitting back to watch how his dick twitches and leaks, and finds the right angle that has Tirion crying out and pushing down, needily chasing the sparks that travel up his spine. Einkil catches him in another kiss, then pulls his hand away. He takes more oil and slicks himself over. Tirion has to screw his eyes shut, the image of Einkil sitting over him, touching himself, is too much. He feels the hands position his thighs, kisses along his chest, and then forces his eyes open to watch Einkil’s face as he ever so slowly pushes himself in. 

Einkil’s breath comes in stutters, forcing himself to go slow even as the wanting look on Tirion’s face and the leg over his hip encourages more. Only when he’s fully flush with Tirion does he manage to catch his breath, thankful for the arms around his back to hold him there limply as he collects his thoughts past the muddy waves of pleasure. He’s still counting breaths when Tirion whines, leg scrambling at his hip to get him to  _ move _ . And who is he not to listen to that breathy noise? 

Einkil still manages to be slow, hands on Tirion’s hips fixing their positioning until he can easily draw his hips forward and back. Tirion touches himself, which is perfectly okay with Einkil, he’s pretty sure trying to have coherent control of his hands and the motion of his hips would counteract in his brain. And the way he matches rhythm perfectly with Einkil’s thrusts, stroking and twisting in an obviously practiced motion, sends additional need through Einkil. He speeds up, snapping his hips just so to have Tirion’s hand falling off himself to tangle in the sheets, mouth open in a gasp. Einkil squeezes his hip and finds that spot again, reveling in the way Tirion clenches around him when he hits it. 

It doesn’t take long for them to come to a stuttering finish, Tirion spilling over himself at a perfectly angled thrust, and Einkil following moments after with a string of dwarvish and elvish curses. He pants against Tirion’s chest, chasing the feeling with a few last thrusts before drawing back and flopping down on his side. Tirion pulls him close, a hand over his shoulders, and tucks Einkil under his chin. They lie there and breath until Einkil drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where do you get lube in the feywild? IDK


	8. Feywild, EXT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is it, ~20K and a little over a month of work.   
> This was more a personal project than actual stuff I need Anna to make canon, but it really has renewed my love for writing, especially silly romance stuff, so whatever happens in this campaign, I'm happy w this!   
> Also ready for Anna to rip Einkil's heart out, and mine.

**He awakes** still on Tirion’s chest, they’ve been cleaned up and the blanket drawn halfway over them. He stirs and kisses the nearest available patch of skin, Tirion’s jaw. The elf turns his head for a proper kiss. 

“ _ Sleep well _ ?” Tirion asks. Einkil nods. “ _ It’s been a few hours, I didn’t want to wake you. _ ” Tirion kisses Einkil’s cheek. “ _ I can draw a bath, and throw something together to eat? _ ” Einkil nods again at that, yawns and finds his voice again, if a bit scratchy. 

“That sounds nice.” He sits up, finding his clothes amongst Tirion’s on the side of the bed and dressing, pausing now and then to turn back and smile at the eyes on him. Tirion dresses, picks up the water pitcher, and leads the way downstairs. 

 

Time passes in bits and pieces after that. They bathe, and eat, and Einkil reads a few more pages before falling asleep again. When he wakes Tirion is in the window seat, a platter of bread and fruit already at his feet. They eat again, and Einkil goes outside to read in the grass while Tirion goes around the base of the tower and surrounding trees, touching the grass and bark. The greenery curls around his fingers, allowing him to shape it and maintain the perfect edges of the circle. He comes back and sits by Einkil when he’s finished the loop. 

“ _ The barrier knows not to hurt people like that now. _ ” Tirion says, brushing the blanket they brought out to sit on smooth. “ _ It should just repel now.I don’t...I can’t be sure if it will cause some pain on the way out.”  _ Tirion frowns at the ground. Einkil looks up from his page, he can count how many he has left on his hands now, and gives him a smile. 

“I can handle it, survived getting in here, didn’t I?” Tirion doesn’t look particurally satisfied with that, but squeezes Einkil’s hand on the edge of the book and drops back into the grass with a sigh. Einkil drinks in the image for a moment, Tirion leaning back surrounded by green, shirt showing his stomach, with light pink marks down his neck and across the bits of chest exposed by his low cut shirt. 

He finishes the book, closes it, and doesn’t say anything for a long time. Tirion has his eyes closed, breathing softly just deep enough for Einkil to know he’s not in a trance. He suddenly very much does not want to leave.

“Lunch?” He turns off that side of his brain and sets the book aside, poking Tirion in the shoulder. Those green eyes crack open and smile at him. 

“ _ Lunch and wine.” _ He responds, pushing himself to standing and pulling Einkil with him. Einkil leans into his side for a moment before releasing him and following him down into the kitchen area. 

They eat bread and cheese and fruit, and Tirion produces another unlabeled bottle and two silver wine glasses. Einkil keeps his filled, and is pleasantly warm by the end of the meal. Tirion clears away the dishes and comes back out with Einkil’s fancy shirt and shoes. He sets them in the grass along side the book. 

“ _ When you’re ready.” _ Is all he says, lying back down and closing his eyes. Einkil changes shirts, folds the soft cotton and refolds it until he can’t find any more wrinkles to fix, and taps anxiously on the cover of the book. His father is worried, if time is truly passing at speed or faster, he’s going to get a major talking too when he comes out of this. His sisters might be more understanding, or at least less angry about whatever social gatherings he’s missed, but he makes a final decision to keep the details, and the entirety of  _ Tirion _ , to himself. He doesn’t need more rumors, especially ones that would...solidify those already going around. He looks again with a mix of pride and embarrassment at the marks on Tirion’s neck. 

“Okay.” He says it so softly he can for a moment hope Tirion doesn’t hear, but the elf breaths in and out, then sits up and stands, offering a hand. Einkil wobbles to his feet. He’s braided his hair and replaced the jewelry this morning, to Tirion just sweeps his knuckles over his cheek before moving around him and picking up the book. Einkil shuffles into his shoes, the confines feeling strange after getting so used to the feeling of grass under his toes. Tirion hands him the book. 

“ _ You uh, you do not have to go back to how things were. You said yourself you want to change the- the political state of things, right?” _ Tirion talks softly, holding Einkil’s hands where they clasp the book. “ _ It has been a while since I have been to uh, there, but there is more to Esmer to see than you think. If you can, I encourage you to get away for awhile. Do not stay trapped anywhere just because people say you should.” _ Tirion pauses to laugh. “ _ I sound silly.”  _ He pauses for another long moment. “ _ I hope to see you again. Maybe intentionally, next time. Without the almost dying to my spells.”  _ Tirion drops to his knees, cradling Einkil’s head, still careful of his temples. Einkil smiles, leaning into the touch. 

“I will, get away, I think. The people in this book-” Einkil taps the cover. “They remind me too much of just about everyone in Itiireae. Stuck up assholes with no idea what they’re talking about.” That earns a laugh and a nod from Tirion. “And I will remember you. If I ever get the chance...I need to travel, meet the people I’m supposed to represent. If somehow I find a way to get to and from the feywild, you’re my first stop.” Einkil nods to himself. Tirion smiles wider and taps the book again. 

“ _ I can’t send you off with much more than this, but, _ ” Tirion chews his lip for a moment. “ _ I’ll hold you too that.” _ He gives one last glowing smile, leans in, and kisses Einkil’s forehead. 

 

The next thing Einkil registers is pain. He’s tipping forward and he expects Tirion to catch him, but instead of just slightly too cold to be normal arms, he finds mossy stone, and the brambles catching his shoulder. Einkil can’t move. He can feel the book digging into his chest but that pain is nothing compared to the sensation of a nutcracker being forced down on his temples. He must be crying out because suddenly there’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him out- of a bush, maybe? And setting him down on the stone. Someone tries to pull the book away and he shouts out, keeping a vice grip on the leather. Someone touches his head and he passes out. 

The next three times he awakes aren’t much better. He sees the book, on a bedside table under a candle, and someone’s sitting in a chair but he’s back out before he can figure out who it is. 

The next time he can hear his sisters, recognizing their accents but not the words, and he tries to talk, manages to get down some offered water with closed eyes and words sounding like muddled nonsense in his ears, before he lies back down and drifts off, a little less panicked. 

The third time he is alone. He looks around the room, his room, the mirror and table across by the door, the book on his bedside, open now, and his dresser. He’s wearing sleep clothes, and even the minimal embroidery on the hem of his shirt feels horribly scratchy. He shifts to sitting up and drinks some water from the cup next to the book. 

His head feels split open, and when he dares touch it he finds there is a bandage there, tight against his hairline. Even that light pressure nearly makes his throw up, and he’s aware of how thirsty and hungry is, so he finishes the water and forces himself to stand. The room swims but he stays vertical. 

His sisters are both awake, in the sitting room with tea. It’s a starry night, visible in the ceiling window surrounded by trees. The pinpricks of light are foreign to Einkil. 

Amber and Viet jump to their feet when he stumbles in. They talk over each other, words he picks out to essentially mean he’s been out for nearly two days, and where has he  _ been _ . He sits and takes the offered tea and a biscuit, and eats slowly before responding.  

“I got lost.” Viet barks a laugh. 

“ _ Lost? _ For four days, we searched  _ everywhere!” _ She shakes her head and crosses her arms. 

“Yes. I don’t know. I wasn’t...it’s very fuzzy.” He almost wishes it were true. Instead, the dwarvish feels thick on his tongue, and he pictures all too clearly Tirion kneeling in front of him, lips twitched in that smile. Einkil shakes his head and takes another biscuit. 

“You’re very hurt. They called in clerics, you nearly  _ died. _ Amber touches his arm softly. “You’re not to move too much, and father is thinking of sending you back to the manor. They said it will take a long time to heal. It’s a  _ magic  _ wound, it wouldn’t close over.” She gestures to his head, and Einkil catches himself before he touches it again. 

“How did that happen, ‘Kil?” Viet asks. Einkil shakes his head- that’s the wrong thing to do, it  _ hurts _ \- and takes Amber’s hand to steady himself. 

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you.” He starts. He offers an arm and Viet climbs from her chair to tuck under his arm. Even though she’s a year older than him, Viet fits easily on the corner of the couch. Amber nods, squeezing his hand. “Well, uh, I assume it was you who looked at that book?” He nods to Amber. She nods back. 

“Where did you get it? It’s old.” Einkil sighs. 

“I can’t lie, but I don’t think you’d believe the whole story. It’s uh, from there, though.” He continues before Amber can respond in disbelief. “Don’t ask how I got it, or how I got  _ there _ , you know magic shit is so beyond me. But I got back, mostly in one piece.” He leans against Viet. “Father can send me away, I don’t care. You two have Ittiireae down. There’s more  _ out there. _ ” Einkil tugs at his beard, loose and slightly tangled. Amber shakes her head, he can’t tell if she doesn’t believe him, or if she’s silently lording it over him- Amber has told him on many occasions to go out and see the world. She claims she doesn’t have to, she reads about it. Their main fight comes up when Einkil tells her she’s relying on the authors rendition of events, and maybe they can’t be trusted. 

“If you go away, you’ll write?” Viet asks, turning to look at him. 

“Of course.” Einkil smiles at her. 

“Little brother,” That’s never a good phrase coming from her. Viet gets a wicked smile on her face. Einkil gives a slightly anxious nod. “Are you going to tell us why you came back covered in hickies?” Viet jabs at his side. Einkil groans. 

 

He packs his bags three days later, hugs his sisters and father goodbye and gets into a covered cart headed west. He settles back against the wood, cracks open the cover of the book, and begins to read. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put notes at the beginning of the Naughty chapters so yall who dont want to read that (or are minors) can skip.


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